


My Demon, An Impossible Possession

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Marking, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You suck a bruise at the column of my throat yet it’s so tender, almost reverent as if you were sucking the juices carefully from an apple like it will be the last one you ever have. But I can’t allow that, can I? I won’t let this be the last you ever have of me. I won’t let it all end tomorrow, for I am determined that tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of our lives.~*~It's the night before the Swap, and Aziraphale wants to take it all the way.





	My Demon, An Impossible Possession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scmnz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmnz/gifts).

> Fic #1 of the Crowley's Confessions Giveaway! Prompt: "the idea of Aziraphale doing a striptease for Crowley, and having a ton of confidence in his body, curves and belly and all, is a good concept."
> 
> Beta'd by: pamspamela, starbit, mountagrue, and purrplekat1989

My desire is to hypnotize you with the pale complexion of snow. Let there be light that shines upon my body: warm, low light as tender as your eyes. And I want you to watch me as I touch myself sensuously: watch the buttons pop one by one, the layers disappearing one after the other until they’ve pooled around my feet: discarded, like the cheery façade I have put up all these years. Buried in the past.

Because now, this is serious.

See me, for I am nothing but flaws. Nothing but soft, blushing skin untouched by compassionate hands. Supple flesh you can sink your fingers into. Bruise me, I’ll cherish each one. Thighs that are undeniably less defined than the marble-cut legs of Roman statues. A stomach that has not seen cardio for as long as I’ve lived, that is round and soft and lightly mottled with curls. But, Lord, here I go baring myself to you. Showing you who I am. This is me. This is who I am. The principality Aziraphale awaiting your touch. I am weak, not in courage or bravery, but in my heart that is bursting with sparks of a million colors; in my knees that shake like a pantheon teetering on unstable columns. Cock throbbing and red and dripping, I smooth shaky hands along my inner thighs and up my chest. I think of how we danced in the bookshop, how your hands settled gently at the small of my back. How you drew me closer as if our bodies were magnetized and kissed me with the gentleness of a flame: slowly consumed me from the inside out until there wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t touched by fire. I think of you taking my hand at the park, how your grip was strong, knuckles pressed tightly underneath skin. I think of the days where you just look at me and stare: seeing my reflection twinkling in your eyes, watching how your lips part in a shuddering breath as if you can’t believe that I am actually real. I think of you in my company when I feel lonely and feel alright again. You love me. You know me. You complete me. And now I give myself to you. Flaws and all.

I want you to see me, Crowley, to touch me and kiss me and mark me and fuck me- and I want you to do it slowly, in the moonlight.

“Can you do that?” I utter, but you’ve already Risen. Your great black wings cut through matter and suddenly the room is dark. Your golden eyes are all I can see. The eyes of a serpent which sink souls into a bottomless pit with a single glance, sucking them into the roiling core of fire and desire deep inside you. Lord, I want to go there. I want to be consumed. But you’re already on your way, prowling towards me with a single focus in mind. You’ve always been just one step behind, haven’t you? Any other angel would never dare to trust a demon at their back and yet we have become companions because of it: an inseparable duo. The sword and the shield. Which one am I? Doesn’t matter, because your arms wrap around my waist and somehow it feels like I am being protected and gutted at the same time.

I cup your jaw, leaning in close, knowing that this is it: the moment we stop time. Because we are selfish beings and we choose to break this perpetual spell of doom that has been suffocating us (we are sad, anxious, tired, depressed, hopeless, _ helpless _) for so long, no matter the cost.

We can stop it all now, for a while, with just a kiss.

A single touch of lip, sparks fizzling between them like electricity, a brighter explosion of energy than a supernova- no, we are two stars who have collided and now there is the dizzying destruction of creation, blinding colors filling up my lungs, an impossible cocktail of emotions tugging at my heart and taking control of the beat.

Heavens, yes, for a single moment, I am in full control. You are with me.

And I need more.

More. I can’t help what my flesh craves. “Anything you desire, it’s yours,” you promise, but it’s more of a broken plea than an oath. And what could you be pleading for, Crowley? You have me. You have me. You _ have _ me. Or is it that you desire to stoop to your knees and wash these aching feet with gentle hands? Is it that you can’t understand how I’ve crawled my way into your chest and now my name is like a curse upon your lips? Am I so godlike as to leave you feeling without purpose if I am not giving you a mission? 

You suck a bruise at the column of my throat yet it’s so tender, almost reverent as if you were sucking the juices carefully from an apple, like it will be the last one you ever have. But I can’t allow that, can I? I won’t let this be the last you ever have of me. I won’t let it all end tomorrow, for I am determined that tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of our lives. 

“They can’t have you,” I moan, eyes burning with unshed tears. I tangle my fingers deep inside your curls. _ Stay _ , I want to beg, _ stay _.

I smooth my hands up across your shoulders and _ push _ , catapulting you onto the bed. It skates across the room, kissing the floor with a brutal _ screech _ before slamming against the wall, quaking. Breathing is more difficult than before. Only you could render me so weak. Only you could make me feel so powerful.

“Six thousand years gone and now I may never see you again,” I utter, striding across the room toward you. The words are like daggers in my throat, making it hard to speak without cutting up my vocal cords, but they are true. “Quite the life we’ve had, isn’t it?” And my voice cracks, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Angel,” you croak. Your body is a pool of untapped energy and tension, coiled so deeply within you yet barely contained by the surface of your skin. You shake, eyes wild and feverish. But you are not allowed to move. No, I have pinned you with the weight of my gaze. Can you feel me, Crowley? Feel my love becoming deeper. 

“Don’t say that it’s the end,” we both say.

“Will you fight to share an eternity with me?” I ask.

“I will.”

It’s like I’m rendered helpless again. I can’t move. I’m trembling, scrambling to remove the last of our layers. And finally, _ skin _: so warm and so yours. I love you, painfully and absolutely.

What do I do with that?

You place your hand on my heart and it sends the blood rushing to my head: dizziness, and next, the Fall.

Our lips collide again and again….

_ You’re so brave, angel _ , you say inside my head, _ braver than I’ll ever be _.

I pull away, looking at you. “Not true,” but the words die on a breath as our lips rejoin and those sparks fly again. Who needs oxygen when we can breathe love? You sink into me and finally, I am free. Free to be myself. Free to be with you. Free to stop time. Free to consume. To flourish. To dance. To claim. To fly. To grind. To smash my lips against yours again and again. To hold you tightly. To make melodies of your moans. To surrender. To be _ claimed _ and _ fucked _ and _ taken _.

All beneath this moonlight that shrouds us. All in desperation to keep our promise.

Tears fall like icy comets in the sky, gone quickly until another- another- another. Is this what we’ve been missing all these years? Breathing in each other’s space, just like this? Oh, nothing could be more peaceful, nothing at all.

Not now that I finally have you.


End file.
